First one, then two
by thebizarrehairtrio
Summary: "Do you hate me?" Allen's on the run, dodging past acquaintances and enemies alike, struggling with himself and his choice to host Neah's memories. (A oneshot of Past!Allen, and what might've gone through his head in the wake of Neah's betrayal and death.) (May be continued, if the author so desires.)


It's the Millennium Earl who gives him the idea, ironically enough. The first one, before he split into Mana and Neah. That very stunt Adam pulled, separating himself into two infants— that was the sort of sorcery Allen needed, wanted, craved to get his hands on. Neah's Memory wrapped about his core, in deep slumber, and his new Innocence arm, a hasty decision done in the heat of the moment as he took his friend's fragments into him, throbbed in warning. He clenched his teeth, auburn hair tied into a high ponytail and ink staining his skin and smearing over a cheek. His glasses reflected the light of his overhead lamp, and he released a gusty sigh.

He couldn't wait for Neah. He barely even knew if he did the procedure properly, because they _needed_ Neah, Neah as he was, not just memories. His soul, his consciousness, his wicked mind— _they needed Neah, reborn and alive as if he never died in the first place._

He dragged a hand over his face, sighing once more. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, ever since he chased down the dying body of his friend and offered himself as a vessel fifteen years ago. Ever since then, he'd been on the run, from the Earl, from Road, from Bookman, from Cross, from the Order— From anyone who posed a risk, posed a threat. He was dead to all of them, though he just knew the old man held doubts. Damn geezer always did believe in him more than he believed in himself.

He pulled his attention from his thoughts and directed them back to the pages on the table below him, diagrams and notes neatly scrawled even in his rushed scratching, a product of years of habit. Couldn't have a messy record, after all. He flipped the top page over, scanning the lines and words, even though each paper had already been committed to memory. He sighed, falling backwards into an armchair and putting his head in his hand, ignoring the alien feel of his left arm.

Years of study, and he still felt he barely scratched the surface. Adam's splitting was unprecedented and imperfect, judging by the fiasco between Mana and Neah. He ignored the twinge of pain that came with the joined names with habitual ease. But, he reminded himself, Adam was always meant to be whole. But he himself, former Bookman Junior, _Allen—_ he'd been wearing masks his entire life. He always felt he'd been juggling multiple hims, and there was a Junior in his head, ruthlessly suppressed in the wake of his renouncement to the eligibility of inheritance. His mind was scattered as it was, how bad could giving his personalities separate bodies be?

But, he reminded himself, there could be consequences. Mana and Neah didn't receive Adam's memory equally, leading the former to be driven insane. And what's more, how would he divide Neah's memories between multiple bodies? What of the Innocence, keeping his friend at bay until the time was right? How would he reunite into one in time for Neah's reawakening? Too many variables to consider, and he was already running out of time.

He screwed his eyes shut, breathing deeply and choking on a sob. Not now. He couldn't break here. _He needed to keep walking._

He rasped unintelligibly deep in his throat, tracing the hollow of it with his human hand. He needed to keep it together. He snorted slightly at the irony of his statement. No, he needed to come apart.

How _did_ Adam perform such sorcery to turn himself into a pair of twin infants? What was his motive, his technique? Was it out of love for Katerina? Conflict within himself, being fond of a human while still wishing for the destruction of humanity? Or perhaps, was he simply tired? The Millennium Earl, who has endured for seven thousand years…

He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, tilting his head back as a bitter smile traced his lips.

"Oh, Neah… Why did you have to die and leave me with this mess?"

* * *

Allen cursed under his breath, ducking into a bar as a black coated pair passed. There wasn't a problem with what they wore at all, if not for the Rose Cross gleaming prominently on the left breast. He scowled. Just his luck, the moment he decides to switch safehouses, he encounters exorcists from the Black Order. He glanced down at his left arm, wrapped in suppressant seals under his long sleeve, and nervously adjusted his glove. It hid his Innocence's presence from both exorcists and akuma alike, but he wasn't so eager to see how that would hold up against a Noah. _Especially _with his precarious position. Neah had damaged their memories with his actions, but he wasn't so keen to find out if they remembered him.

He left the safety of the bar as soon as he could sense no Innocence or golems and set off in the opposite direction to the train station, boarding quickly and plopping down in an empty compartment with a sigh, drawing a rune on the door to compel people's attention to pass over it. He liked his privacy, thank you very much. He crossed his arms, leaned his head against the glass, and slid his eyelids shut.

_A faceless man, hand raised to his cheek._

"_Allen…"_

_His voice… It's familiar. He leans into his touch._

"_Do you hate me?"_

He startled awake, breathing heavily, his right arm propped up on his knee, forefinger and thumb pressed to his forehead. "Neah?" he whispered. That was Neah, in his dreams, asking him that dumb question. He laughed, too bitter and too fake, leaning his head back.

"No, Neah. I don't hate you."

_I just hate what you've done to me._

* * *

**The idea of Past!Allen on the run in the years leading up to his regression into becoming Current Allen has always been fascinating to me. Holding his friend's memory, alone and afraid, not quite hunted but feeling like it, always seemed like a tragic beginning. Past Allen isn't one for reckless behavior. He knows his importance, knows he must keep Neah's memory safe until it's time for him to disappear and for Neah to take the stage. Past Allen seems cautious to me, unwilling to take risks with so much at stake. He isn't going out of his way to fight akuma or kill Noah or exorcists. He's just doing his best to survive until Neah takes over. **

**I can't help but feel like he had a dream before this, and Neah somehow messed up and died, throwing everyone's plans into chaos as they scrambled to salvage them. Past Allen carrying Neah's memory was an unprecedented series of events born from **_**something **_**going wrong, something fucking everything up and derailing the original scenario.**

**I'm not sure if I'll continue this, although I do have a rough idea of how I could and how the plot could continue on, but I'll stop ranting about this. For now, at least. Plus, the beginning is hinting at the storyline that's been bouncing around my head for a while, so I probably will continue. Soon. Once I get off my ass and keep going with my two other stories. So, oneshot for now!**


End file.
